


Little Starfighters

by LadyEnterprise1701



Series: Two Halves of the Same Protagonist [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Redeemed Ben Solo, Reylo babies, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, and they all lived happily ever after, because some of just need fluffy baby fics in our lives, twins run in the family, what else can I say?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyEnterprise1701/pseuds/LadyEnterprise1701
Summary: The big day has finally arrived, and Rey, Ben, Finn, and Poe are all ready...albeit in vastly different ways.
Relationships: Finn/Rose Tico, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Zorii Bliss/Poe Dameron
Series: Two Halves of the Same Protagonist [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047505
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Little Starfighters

**Author's Note:**

> All I know is that this is post-The Rise of Skywalker, Ben Solo lives, the Sequel Trio remains awesome, Dyad babies are the best babies, this story fits perfectly in my alternate universe, and they all lived happily ever after, THE END--because in 2020, WE decide what is canon.

_Two years after the Battle of Exegol…_

Poe Dameron was impatient. It had been six hours since he got the call from Finn, and still he hadn’t heard so much as a _peep_ from the little house tucked away in the forest across the lake.

He’d just dozed off when his comm started buzzing on the little table next to his bed. He’d rolled over, trying not to disturb Zorri or the Little Rascal sleeping soundly between them, and fumbled for the device in the dark.

“Hello?” he’d croaked, expecting to get a late-night report about unidentified ships in Chandrilan orbit…or a sighting of a First Order agent…or something equally unsettling. Instead, he got Finn—a panicked, breathless Finn.

“Poe! Buddy, it’s me. You asleep?”

Poe smothered a groan as the Little Rascal whimpered and Zorri gently shushed him. “Not anymore. What’s up?”

“It’s time.”

Poe frowned. “Time for what?”

“Time for you- _know_ -what! Rey just called Rose. We’re heading up there now.”

Poe cleared his throat and started to sit up. “Okay. Okay—first of all, calm down—”

“You’re gonna put all those security plans in place right now, aren’t you?”

“Well, I will, if you’ll just give me a chance to rub the sleep outta my eyes—”

“Good, because it sounded like we won’t have to wait long. Yeah, Baby, I’m coming! No, I’m just letting Poe know what’s going on.”

Rose must’ve snatched the comm from Finn, because Poe heard her voice next, firm and a little exasperated: “You don’t have to do a thing until you hear back from us, Poe, with _actual news_. Don’t call me—I’ll call you. That all right with you?”

“Sure, sure,” Poe said, grateful for Rose’s unflustered presence in his best friend’s life. “And tell Rey she’s got all the prayers and best wishes of the New Republic with her, okay?”

“Will do!” Rose said cheerily. “Come on, Finn—and stop biting your nails!”

The call had ended then, and Poe had set his comm back on the table with a sigh. Zorri, drifting back to sleep after comforting their newborn, ran her hand over his back.

“Rey?” she’d whispered.

“Rey,” Poe had said—and his wife needed no further explanation. Nor did she seem all that worried, judging by her soft snoring a few minutes later.

But Poe never could get back to sleep. He tossed and turned until finally he gave up and started pacing the floor. When the Little Rascal woke again, Poe scooped him up and gave him his bottle, trying desperately to prevent him from fussing too loudly and waking his mother. Zorri had had a time of it since the small fry was born, and the fact that she still couldn’t jump back into her active lifestyle just yet had put her in a perpetually fiery mood.

Besides, the longer she slept, the longer he had to stew in his thoughts. As soon as Rose called him back, he’d send out the security drones. Rey wouldn’t like the idea of being monitored, even from the atmosphere, but they’d already agreed she didn’t have much choice if she wanted that cute little house of hers to be absolutely safe.

He’d have to prep the announcement, too. She _really_ wouldn’t like _that._ But again, it was all prearranged. She couldn’t escape the fact that she was a very public figure now, or the fact that the whole kriffing Galaxy knew she was about to pop. Poor kid could hardly walk into the Senate the other day, she was so round and heavy with babies. 

The sun was starting to rise now, though, and Zorri rarely slept beyond dawn. Poe still paced the room, the Little Rascal tucked in his arms, when she rolled over and focused her keen brown eyes on him.

“I don’t remember you being this antsy when _your_ son was born,” Zorri whispered with a sleepy smirk.

Poe raised his dark eyebrows at her. “That’s because I didn’t have to worry about implementing any security plans for him once he was born.”

Zorri snorted. “True…”

“I mean, as obvious as it is that the Little Rascal’s inherited my good looks and _your_ brains, he’s not exactly a prime target for the remnants of the First Order. And it’s definitely not like he’s the great-grandson of both You-Know-Who _and_ You-Know Who.” Poe ran the back of his finger along his son’s round, velvety cheek, a sudden protectiveness laying hold of him. “I can’t even imagine living with _that_ kinda fear.”

“Well, I wouldn’t fret too much,” Zorri said, yawning. “It’s not like Rey can’t take care of herself. Or her little ones.”

“True,” Poe murmured. “And it isn’t like _we_ won’t protect them, either.”

Zorri closed her eyes, humming in agreement. “ _Or_ like their daddy wouldn’t rip off the head of anyone who so much as looked at ‘em wrong.”

Poe glanced up in time to see her raise her eyebrows. _That_ may have been the most reassuring point either of them had made yet. 

* * *

Finn Stormbreaker, as he preferred to be known these days, was anxious. He and Rose had established their vigil in the cozy little common area of the house across the lake, but the midwives kept running up and down the stairs...and he kept hearing these loud, long, agonized moans upstairs.

It made him want to jump out of his skin. It reminded him of those awful months during the war when the desperate need to protect Rey drove him to deeds of reckless daring.

(He wasn’t about to try and pull one over on those midwives, though. They looked like they might deck him a good one if he so much as got in their way.)

“Sit down, Finn!” Rose pleaded, balancing a cup of tea on her own bulging stomach. “You’re making me nervous!”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled, his hands in his pockets, his steps _definitely_ not heading towards the low couch where she sat. “How long is this gonna take again?”

Rose sighed, glanced at her chrono. “We’ve been here for six hours. The sun is starting to come up. It won’t be long now, if everything is going all right—”

“Why wouldn’t it go all right?” Finn demanded.

Rose shot him a wide-eyed, frustrated glare. “There’s no reason to think it _isn’t_ going all right, Finn! Force around us, if this is how you’re gonna act when _our_ baby comes, I might not even let you in the room!”

He tried to look hurt, but she was so adorable when she was angry, he couldn’t help smiling instead. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re too cute to be cruel.”

Rose pursed her lips, her dark eyes sparkling with laughter. “Well, don’t test me.”

He chuckled and wandered over to the couch, plopping down to a seat beside her. Rose sipped her tea in placid contentment—until a blood-curdling scream upstairs sent Finn flying to his feet so fast, the tea sloshed into her saucer.

“ _Finn!”_ Rose shrieked.

“Something’s wrong!” Finn wailed. “I can feel it—!”

“You can’t feel anything except the butterflies in your own stomach!” Rose shouted, _really_ angry now. “Sit down before I pull a Jedi mind trick on you and knock you out myself!”

He stared at her. “Did Rey teach you how to do that?”

“No, _Ben_ did! Now SIT DOWN!”

Finn sat down with a thud. Rose sighed, poured the cooling tea in the saucer back into the cup, and indulged in another sip.

When another scream plunged down the stairs, she dug her nails into Finn’s thigh. He yelped, but stayed right where he was.

* * *

Ben Solo was terrified. He suspected most men who found themselves in this particular situation were all a little petrified, but most men didn’t have the memories he did. He wasn’t prepared for—or worthy of—what was about to happen.

And yet it _was_ happening, whether he felt ready for it or not.

It had been six hours since Rey shook him awake. She never did that—she knew any sudden movements or noises in the middle of the night made him bolt upright, breathing hard and summoning one or both of their lightsabers. He’d startled awake this time, too, but she’d squeezed his shoulder before he could react further and pushed herself into an awkward sitting position.

“Shh, it’s all right,” she’d hissed through gritted teeth. “I just think…I think you’d better call the midwives.”

He’d stared at her for a breathless moment, then flung the blankets off and leaped out of bed so fast, she had actually laughed at him. Within an hour the aging Chandrilan midwives had crowded the house; an hour after that, Finn and Rose set up camp downstairs.

But he hadn’t left Rey—not for one second. She’d maintained a cheerful, unworried mood through the night, alternating between napping, playing with the holographic game board Chewie had brought by last week, and pacing the room with Ben at her back.

Now, however, she hunched over the end of the bed, her hair sticking to her red face, rocking back and forth. The contractions were fierce and regular now; Ben could sense her mounting misery every few minutes. Their Bond had grown so strong over the past two years, he could even feel, to a certain and very limited extent, the long, intensifying waves of breathtaking pain.

(But only to a certain extent. He didn’t dare presume to think he knew _exactly_ how it felt.)

“It hurts,” Rey moaned. “It _hurrrrrrrrts_ …”

“I know. I know.” Gently, he pried her whitening fingers from the end of the bed and pulled her close. Rey dropped her head against his chest and clung to him, breathing shakily as another wave nearly overwhelmed her. He buried his lips in her damp hair and rubbed her back right where he knew it ached the most.

 _“My Scavenger Princess,”_ he whispered into her mind. “ _I love you…I don’t deserve you, but I love you.”_

“Don’t say that,” Rey gasped aloud, digging her fingers in the front of his shirt. “Don’t…don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what?” He, too, reverted to verbal communication; the Bond must have been too exhausting for her at the moment.

“You do,” Rey whispered. “You _do_ deserve this.”

He snorted softly. “I do?”

“Mm-hmm.” She lifted her head, her hazel eyes clearer, her breathing steadier, and her expression startlingly mischievous. “Two babies means two little mouths to feed in the middle of the night. And since it’s your fault I’m in this situation, I'm putting you in charge of one bottle, Ben Solo. Don't you dare argue with me about it.”

It took him a second to realize she was teasing him—it always did—but once it dawned on him, he laughed. Rey smiled, but the expression crumbled in a wince and another gasp. He drew her close again, holding her until it passed.

* * *

Rey Skywalker was ready. Morning sun streamed through the bedroom window, splaying across the bed, the rumpled sheets, and the wizened, capable midwives. Her husband knelt on the floor beside the bed, her hand folded between both of his, his dark eyes locked on her. She knew she must look an awful sight.

 _“No,”_ Ben murmured through the Bond. “ _You’re beautiful. You’ve never been more beautiful.”_

She tried to laugh into the connection, but couldn’t manage it. She was excited—had _been_ excited ever since she felt the first telltale pains last night—but now she was scared, too. She hadn’t been scared in a long, long time. 

_“Don’t leave me, Ben,”_ she begged, remembering the way Poe had fainted when his son was born two months ago. _“Please don’t leave me.”_

He brought her hand to his lips. “ _Never, Sweetheart. Never in a million years.”_

Relieved, she leaned back against the pillows, gathering her strength. It was hard to believe this was almost over. Rey knew all about waiting—she’d spent fifteen years of her life waiting on a promise that never got fulfilled—but the past eight months had taught her that waiting could be beautiful. 

The babies hadn’t flickered into existence here on Chandrila, but on Ach-To. She’d realized a few weeks after a brief “holiday” on the island that she and Ben had brought back more than just seashells and new ideas for their burgeoning Academy. The knowledge had terrified them both at first. The children of a Dyad—the great-grandchildren of both Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader—would be valuable targets for the aggressive remnants of the First Order.

But as the babies grew inside her, her anxiety gave way to a delight Rey had never experienced. She learned to recognize their own individual signatures: one was fierce and glowing, the other quieter and gentler. Five months in she finally knew it was a _boy_ who kicked and danced against her ribs. The girl, by contrast, spent her days in shy tranquility, fluttering with joy only when Ben pressed his forehead against Rey’s swelling abdomen and directed all his thoughts towards his tiny daughter.

And two weeks ago, Rey knew, without a doubt, that they loved her, too. She felt them cuddling inside her womb, certain in their own innocent, unconscious way that she would keep them safe. Their unquestioning love was enough to make her break down and weep for the mother _she_ barely remembered.

But she’d sensed their alarm last night when her whole body tensed and squeezed them down and forward. She’d tried to calm them before waking Ben, yet their wordless fear and discomfort still tugged at the edges of her own mind. 

Now their fright and her own pain were blinding. Rey clenched Ben’s hand and bore down. The midwives expected it, blankets and hot water at the ready. They called out encouragement, wiped the sweat and tears from her face as she leaned back, and urged her to try again.

 _Burning, pressure, stretching, tearing._ Nothing on Jakku could’ve ever prepared her for this.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” Ben murmured. “You can do this. I _know_ you can do this.”

 _“In the heart of the Jedi lies her strength,”_ whispered a familiar voice. Rey collapsed against the pillows, gasping hard. Just behind Ben, she could’ve sworn she saw Leia watching with nothing but pride and love in her eyes. She blinked, and the vision remained. No hallucination, then.

Leia nodded, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Rey nodded back, gripped Ben’s hand tighter, screamed—

And something small, heavy, and wet slipped out of her. The midwives cried out in approval. Ben sprang off his knees, Rey leaned her head back—and a high-pitched, frail little scream drowned out every other sound.

“A girl!” bellowed one of the midwives.

Rey rolled her head forward. “Give her to me. Please…please give her to me…”

The midwife needed no further pleading: quickly snipping the cord and winding the little one in a blanket, she laid the baby on Rey’s chest. Rey’s hands shook as she held the bundle close. Fierce, tender love swelled within her as she gazed into the round, slightly-bruised face.

“Hello,” Rey whispered, tears flooding her eyes. “Don’t cry. You’re here…you’re safe…and I will never, ever leave you, my sweet baby girl. Shh, shh…”

She kissed the baby’s damp forehead; the little girl hiccuped and splayed her hand against Rey’s skin. Ben leaned over them both and stroked the baby’s hair—fine and black, just like his. Rey’s heart leaped at the wonder in his eyes.

“She looks just like you, Ben,” she whispered. “She’s beautiful.”

He blinked, tore his gaze from the baby to her, and his chin wobbled. Rey smiled—but then the pain started again; she gritted her teeth and clutched his sleeve. 

“Here comes the other one,” one of the midwives grumbled. “And it’s coming fast.”

“Let me take her, Rey,” Ben murmured. 

“No,” she gasped. “Not yet.”

He withdrew his hands and got on his knees again, taking the hand she desperately offered him. Cradling her daughter in one arm, Rey summoned the last of her strength and bore down hard.

_Be with me…be with me…be with me, please, PLEASE!_

Faster than she would’ve expected, another quivering scream shattered the air. Rey slumped against the pillows, exhausted.

“A boy!” announced the midwife.

Rey lifted her head again, the tears rolling down her face, just in time to see the midwife lift up a much larger baby—fatter, flailing, and furious. This time when Ben sprang to his feet, he held out both his large hands. The midwife shot him a wry look.

“Let me wrap him up first, young man,” she said, totally unintimidated, “and _then_ you can have him as long as you like.”

Ben flushed, but never took his eyes off the baby. The little girl started crying; Rey soothed her, stroking her velvety forehead and delicate fingers, but all the while she watched Ben closely. She’d learned from long, hard experience that he could be an unpredictable bundle of anger, nerves, joy, passion, laughter, fear, and hope. She’d wondered often, and with varying conclusions, what his reaction to the birth of his children would be.

The midwife placed the bundled baby in his open palms. Ben immediately drew him close, settling him in the crook of his arm as if he’d done this a million times before, and eased the blanket back from the tiny face. Rey held her breath, waiting for him to turn towards her. When he finally did, her heart nearly burst.

Tears filled his eyes—but they weren’t tears of grief or rage. Through the Bond she felt only his amazement, his gratitude, and his overwhelming love for these tiny little souls.

He never thought he’d have this. Never in a million years.

“Ben,” Rey whispered. “Come here.”

He came, gulping back tears. He still never took his eyes off the baby as he sat down beside Rey on the bed. The twins gurgled softly; the little girl was drifting to sleep, but the little boy had stopped crying and now stared in wide-eyed curiosity at his father. Ben let out a breathless, watery laugh and touched the baby’s nose with his fingertip.

“ _He_ looks like you,” he rasped. He tore his focus from the baby and gazed at her instead, his glistening eyes dark and adoring. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For believing in me.”

She smiled as he leaned down and kissed her very, very gently. When he pulled away she sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“We should probably call Finn and Poe,” she whispered. “You _know_ they’re worried sick.”

He chuckled, settling himself more comfortably beside her, and wound an arm around her shoulders. “They can worry just a little while longer. I want to get to know my little starfighters before we share them with the rest of the world.”


End file.
